yakksoho
Bluelighter
children of redemption
What one brown one said to tan
Was not words but tears
He cried for himself and his wife and
Children who would see him go
Who would see his head
On the ground and his body
Still running round the
Birthplace of his youngest
Child
He cried too for his mother and father
Who had gone the same way
"But at least they had gone to Heaven"
He said through tears that tasted like
Blood that would soon
Seep through his eyes
And onto his children's feet
The tan one became larger
As he ruffled, sulked, and flustered
Angry "ungrateful whores" he shouted
"My beak is tipped with black
And red from all the times
I had to
Rip out my children's eyes
"Ungratefeul whores"
He shouted
And stamped his claws in dust
"These toes" he said "are gnarled
And taupe and my wife's are
Sunflower yellow
Because she never had to
Wade in the blood of her father"
His beak was tipped with black and red
Like blood that would soon
Splash onto the foot of his
Youngest child
I pray for the turkeys
Who flap their wings blindly
And close their eyes
And plummet into tall buildings
So that they may roast in its fire
They say they go to god
When they die to give man thanks
For killing them
If the only way for me to go to heaven
Was to kill myself and my brothers
I don't know that I would have a choice
Either
A kamikaze hatchet
Had been bought at a five and
Ten store like a trinket for boys
To play with
Now the boys were pale and
Whithered like they had
Dried up in the sun
They began to resemble a human
Brain as they grabbed some
Body at random and dragged him by
The neck as a cat watched from the
Window wearing a silver collar
The sunlight never became more like
Gold as moonlight trickled down
His eye
His wife would have been glad to know
That his last thoughts were
With his eyes wide open
Though seeing nothing
And inside he saw a moon as bright as
Lovely bells and rainbow broomsticks
And feathers of every shade of blue
Drifted down around him
And dreams were no longer colours
And pictures but instead as real
As silver hatches with yellow
Handles and edges so red as
Bandanas around dogs' necks
Horses in the acre over whistled
Without thinking while swines
Lay bleeding out their children
As their soul mates lay shattered
And hatchets what so dormant lay
Rose of a sudden after drumrolls of
Footsteps like phœnixes rising
From five-hundred year old fires
And after silver stars and white worms
Had fallen to the ground the
Hatchets died again another day older
For the next five-hundred years
And silver eyes that never closed fell
To the ground like rubber chickens
And young boys kneaded handles
With fingers as whithered as raisins
As deft as years since five and ten stores
Can be the insignifigant struggles
Lay in drops of blood all around
Kamikaze sparrows flew into the mouths
Of cats who wear silver collars and
Blue ribbons and moonshine glistened
In a bleeding temple that was miles
From its parishoners while a looney
Gone mad from war ran in circles in front of
A soldier's silver eyes
Fireflies turn off in prayer when
Turkeys plummet into skyscrapers
And cicadas turn off in honor of
Swines who stuff their noses
Down guns and hefers who nurse hormones
Hatchets are for young boys
And axes are toys for old men who
Like yellow handles and golden
Sunlight and who tie silver bells
From turkey dreams around the necks
Of cats to keep them from killing
Sparrows and who love the colour like
Blood that trickles onto the feet of
A kamikaze's youngest child.
21.11.01
What one brown one said to tan
Was not words but tears
He cried for himself and his wife and
Children who would see him go
Who would see his head
On the ground and his body
Still running round the
Birthplace of his youngest
Child
He cried too for his mother and father
Who had gone the same way
"But at least they had gone to Heaven"
He said through tears that tasted like
Blood that would soon
Seep through his eyes
And onto his children's feet
The tan one became larger
As he ruffled, sulked, and flustered
Angry "ungrateful whores" he shouted
"My beak is tipped with black
And red from all the times
I had to
Rip out my children's eyes
"Ungratefeul whores"
He shouted
And stamped his claws in dust
"These toes" he said "are gnarled
And taupe and my wife's are
Sunflower yellow
Because she never had to
Wade in the blood of her father"
His beak was tipped with black and red
Like blood that would soon
Splash onto the foot of his
Youngest child
I pray for the turkeys
Who flap their wings blindly
And close their eyes
And plummet into tall buildings
So that they may roast in its fire
They say they go to god
When they die to give man thanks
For killing them
If the only way for me to go to heaven
Was to kill myself and my brothers
I don't know that I would have a choice
Either
A kamikaze hatchet
Had been bought at a five and
Ten store like a trinket for boys
To play with
Now the boys were pale and
Whithered like they had
Dried up in the sun
They began to resemble a human
Brain as they grabbed some
Body at random and dragged him by
The neck as a cat watched from the
Window wearing a silver collar
The sunlight never became more like
Gold as moonlight trickled down
His eye
His wife would have been glad to know
That his last thoughts were
With his eyes wide open
Though seeing nothing
And inside he saw a moon as bright as
Lovely bells and rainbow broomsticks
And feathers of every shade of blue
Drifted down around him
And dreams were no longer colours
And pictures but instead as real
As silver hatches with yellow
Handles and edges so red as
Bandanas around dogs' necks
Horses in the acre over whistled
Without thinking while swines
Lay bleeding out their children
As their soul mates lay shattered
And hatchets what so dormant lay
Rose of a sudden after drumrolls of
Footsteps like phœnixes rising
From five-hundred year old fires
And after silver stars and white worms
Had fallen to the ground the
Hatchets died again another day older
For the next five-hundred years
And silver eyes that never closed fell
To the ground like rubber chickens
And young boys kneaded handles
With fingers as whithered as raisins
As deft as years since five and ten stores
Can be the insignifigant struggles
Lay in drops of blood all around
Kamikaze sparrows flew into the mouths
Of cats who wear silver collars and
Blue ribbons and moonshine glistened
In a bleeding temple that was miles
From its parishoners while a looney
Gone mad from war ran in circles in front of
A soldier's silver eyes
Fireflies turn off in prayer when
Turkeys plummet into skyscrapers
And cicadas turn off in honor of
Swines who stuff their noses
Down guns and hefers who nurse hormones
Hatchets are for young boys
And axes are toys for old men who
Like yellow handles and golden
Sunlight and who tie silver bells
From turkey dreams around the necks
Of cats to keep them from killing
Sparrows and who love the colour like
Blood that trickles onto the feet of
A kamikaze's youngest child.
21.11.01
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